The Art of Neighbourliness
Written by Tinashe Jakwa, Illustrated by Chris Leopardi - August 6th, 2020
Recently, it was our neighbour’s birthday. It was a Wednesday and I was drinking coffee on the balcony. It was cold. Our neighbour emerged from his apartment and he stopped for a yarn. We exchanged greetings and he informed me that it was his birthday. I wished him a happy birthday and asked him about his plans for the day. He did not have concrete plans, but intended to place a few phone calls to family and friends. I offered to prepare him dinner. He did not want to inconvenience us. I told him that it would not be an inconvenience and he accepted the offer. Fast-forward and seven o-clock strikes. He knocks on the door and I serve pasta with feta sausages which we eat to conversation about surfing and finding one’s place in the world – those things that fill us with joy and bring us satisfaction.
We sip on beers and enjoy second servings. Soon we are full and my partner and I bring out a small birthday cake with a number eighty candle. He records the moment on his phone. Our neighbour is not eighty, but he enjoys the joke. We each enjoy a slice of cake and soon continue our conversation about the importance of structuring one’s life in ways that are meaningful to oneself. We listen to his stories. He has lived a long life of trial and error and now finds himself fulfilled. He has a job that he enjoys, spends time with loved ones, and cycles or surfs to his heart’s content. Gone are the days when necessity was his master. Nowadays, he decides his own path. Hours pass and we say our goodbyes. Our neighbour returns next door to his apartment and my partner and I withdraw into our own apartment. We exchange a knowing glance and smile that speak to our great fortune: living in a place where we can share our lives, stories, and conversation with our neighbours.
When we first moved into our apartment we were conscious of how lucky we were. Few places come with a strong sense of neighbourliness. It is difficult to find a place to live where it is natural to want to know your neighbours and to take an interest in their lives and wellbeing. Such an interest is different from someone simply being a ‘good’ neighbour. It is easy to imagine a scenario in which someone regards another person as a ‘good’ neighbour because they keep to themselves and never utter a single “hello”. A good neighbour can look different to many people. What my partner and I were grateful for was the sense of community that animates our apartment block.
In the carpark, ‘the lads’ have set-up some chairs where they gather together in the evenings to enjoy a good yarn and talk about the long lives they have led and the changes the world has undergone. The ‘father’ of the block, an elderly man, walks around ensuring that all is well and happy to take out the garbage for all of us. Here, there is community and we know that if we encounter any difficulties we can seek comfort from one of our neighbours or ask them to lend a helping hand. In a suburban city where it is expected that people keep to themselves and it is understood that one cannot and should not rely on their neighbours, we act out in happy defiance, and take pleasure in celebrating birthdays and sharing laughs with ours.
***
Much of my life in Perth has been characterised by a distinct lack of neighbourliness. Here, many do not appreciate or understand its value. I have lived in many houses. I have lived in houses where I have not known my neighbours’ names. I have lived in houses where I never caught a glimpse of my neighbours. I have had neighbours where our only interactions were noise complaints. I have had neighbours where we have passed each other without uttering a single “hello”. Each time I knew that I could not rely on any of them. They could not rely on me either. Despite living in close proximity, our lives were separated by walls so great nothing could destroy them. The one exception was an apartment block I lived in where I befriended two brothers who lived next door to me.
We shared dinner and beers. We argued and lent each other a hand. I learnt to listen. Both brothers were white. We saw the world differently. We were each ignorant of many things, yet through our arguments and laughter, we learnt a lot from one another. We learnt the value of listening to others and the importance of doing so when opinions and life experiences differ. I look back to those times with great fondness for my neighbours. Often, I wonder where they are, what they are doing, and if they are happy. In that same apartment block, a Brazilian couple also lived next to me. While I did not see them often, we still shared tea and greetings. When they moved out, they gave me a large box of fruits.
I have also lived in small towns, some of them by proxy – my parents lived there and I visited. I found it easier to experience a sense of community in these places. One often knows their neighbours. It is commonplace to greet strangers in the supermarket, on the streets, and to engage in conversation and learn about other people’s stories. People derive great joy from taking an interest in others or even a simple greeting or a smile. Many will know something about you without ever having said a word to you. In these places, one can rely on their neighbours and many other strangers, if only in their abiding curiosity about the lives of others. People know how to relate to others; they understand the value of community. Not all interactions are pleasant, but the better to live in a place where people take an interest in others’ lives and wellbeing, than to uphold the perverted dictates of individualism gone wrong.
***
Neighbourliness is an art – it is a creative practice. Through it, we model our visions of what it means to be of this world and to relate to others. We bring our values to life through the mundane gestures that animate all of our days – a greeting, an inquiry into someone’s health, an offer to help, a piece of advice offered, a worry about the sudden change of routine in someone’s life, a smile, a complaint, a dismissal, a conversation, a laugh, and many others. Gestures speak volumes. A greeting says many things – I see you, I care about you, I appreciate you, I want to know you, I love you, I am sorry, thank you. Through gestures, we create the world in which we live.
When we do not speak to or show any interest in knowing our neighbours, we betray an inability to value all lives and others’ wellbeing. We subscribe to narrow notions of community and who we understand ourselves to be. We sacrifice ourselves at an altar that yields no rewards, but reflects back the emptiness of our sacrifice. Yet, we do not have to do this. Instead, we can delight in this creative practice. We can experiment with different ways of being neighbourly that nurture the positive visions that we carry of the world. We can create ways of relating that are not destructive. We can respect neighbourliness as an art form.
As I look back on that Wednesday, I am happy that my partner and I could celebrate our neighbour’s birthday and that he accepted our dinner offer. While he is yet to reach the age of eighty, we hope that he lives a long and fulfilling life. We also hope that we will be able to share more moments in his life and more conversations filled with laughter, for this is how the world is built. This is how we pay our respects to the living.
“‘The Art of Neighbourliness" arose out of a years-long reflection on the meaning of community. I have learnt that ‘community’ is only sensible when it is not a prisoner of the borders we create to separate ourselves from each other. By practicing neighbourliness, we can tear down borders and free ourselves to create a better and just world.
- Tinashe Jakwa